Kyton

A kyton is humanoid, though nobody can say if it was ever human. Chains are its clothing, armor and weapons: fine links bind its body and limbs, and heavy strands studded with barbs, welded iron scraps and little blades dangle from its arms. Its head is wrapped too, leaving only the throat, a grimacing mouth and sometimes a single gleaming eye.

Worse, that partial face often belongs to a viewer's dead friend, loved one or feared enemy, and the mind fills in the rest. Whether this is illusion or the dead returned is unknown. Anyone who sees it must pass a Wisdom check or be shaken, taking a -1 initiative penalty for 1-3 rounds. Tinkling chains and a spiteful titter warn that one is hunting.

Kytons choose whatever stalking style will frighten a victim most, an open, cold pursuit through the chain-hung streets or fleeting shadows and faint music, perhaps through telepathy or a keen sense for fear. Ordinarily a kyton lashes with both barbed arms each round.

When it must, or simply to terrify, it uses the 'gift of chains,' commanding every chain within 20 feet. It can rattle them, make them writhe like snakes, run along them as a spider runs a web, and lengthen them 15 feet with new barbs and blades, attacking with them twice per round as if in melee. Two kytons contesting one chain stall for 1d4 rounds until one wins.

Weapons below +2 cannot hurt kytons, and cold has no effect. They do not bleed, a limb cut off by a nonmagical weapon rejoins within five rounds, and they regenerate 1 hit point per round. Only magical or blessed weapons do lasting harm: magical wounds heal at a normal person's rate, blessed ones at half that, a single point per 2 days. Kytons always flee blessed weapons but fight magical ones, and a bless works on them even when cast on a plane opposite the hells across the wider ring of planes.

Kytons are equals with no disputes over rank, only quick brawls over scraps of prey, after which the loser slips away into the metal maze of the city. Their only treasure is what their victims carried.

They police the city, enforcing its laws brutally. Some say they eat their prey; others think they feed on the anguish of captured spirits. Nobody truly knows, because a captive kyton can will itself dead, dissolving into a greasy, foul-smelling puddle of ichor and chain.